


Humble Sacrifice

by becameapasttime (mitslits)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mythological AU, god!graves, sacrifice!credence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 15:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10282184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/becameapasttime
Summary: Credence Barebone is about to become a sacrifice to the gods when one of them shows up to his execution.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarkany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarkany/gifts).



“Gods above…” 

Credence wakes to the words. His head thrums with his heartbeat, and he lets out a quiet moan, head lolling forward. Everything is pain. His head pounds, his arms and shoulders throb, his knees and back ache. 

Slowly, he cracks open one eye. He finds himself kneeling on a marble slab, forehead resting against a pillar made of the same. He makes to stand, only to find himself arrested by chains wrapped around his wrists, forcing his arms behind his neck. Panic swamps him. 

“Help,” Credence croaks, his voice rusty with disuse. “Someone, hel-” 

Suddenly there are hands on his shoulders, dragging him to his feet. The pillar he’s been resting against is topped with a polished, ceramic basin, and dread settles in Credence’s stomach. He knows what this is. 

Credence lifts his head to look at the person whose hands are still on his shoulders, helping him find his feet. “Ma…” 

“I didn’t know if you were ever going to wake,” Mary Lou says dryly. “This will be easier now that you have.” She reaches into the folds of her chiton, drawing out a mean-looking dagger. 

If Credence couldn’t have guessed her intentions before, he certainly can now. He looks around, ready to call out again, but they’re in a small clearing surrounded by forest. There’s little help to be found there. 

Credence strains at the chains around his wrists, skin chafing against the metal links. Warm blood wells up and runs down, but it’s nothing compared to what’s coming. “Let me go,” he pleads. “I swear I’ll be better. I swear I’ll obey. Just let me go.”   


“It’s  _ necessary _ , Credence. Will your obedience bring back our money or keep a roof over our heads? No. But your blood could still save me. And your sisters,” Mary Lou gives him a look laced with pity, but there is none to be found in her eyes. They’re dark and desperate, filled with something that sends a shiver down Credence’s spine. 

“Please,” Credence whispers, but he knows there’s no use. He supposes he should count himself lucky. There are plenty of people who don’t get even nineteen years. 

“Gods above,” Mary Lou repeats. She places the dagger to Credence’s throat. “Accept my humble sacrifice-” 

A deep, rich laugh emanates from the edge of the clearing. 

Mary Lou whirls to face the sound, fingers clenching around the dagger. “Who are you?” she hisses. “What are you doing here?” 

Credence cranes his neck to see beyond Mary Lou, catch a glimpse of whoever is intruding. What he sees is not what he expects. 

A man leans casually against the tree, robes as black as night and trimmed with white. It matches his salt-and-pepper hair, which is neatly slicked back. Brown eyes gleam under thick, black brows, and one edge of his mouth is still pulled up in an amused smile. 

Credence’s breath leaves him in a soft gasp. The stranger has a faint aura around him, a glow reserved only for the gods. Credence falls to his knees, feeling as if his arms are about to be ripped from their sockets.   


“You can refer to me as Graves,” Graves says, pushing off the tree. He wanders forward a couple steps, eyes flitting between Credence and Mary Lou. “As to what I’m doing here… I think I should be the one asking you that question. You’re the one with the knife.” 

Gritting her teeth, Mary Lou raises it to chest height. “Take another step closer and I’ll use it on you,” she warns him. 

Graves raises his hands in surrender, stopping where he is. “Relax. I’m only here to observe.”

What little hope had managed to take root within Credence shrivels and dies. Of course the gods would have no interest in stopping a sacrifice made in their name. 

Mary Lou turns back to face Credence, only then realizing he’s kneeling again. “Get up!” She hauls him upwards, positioning him over the bowl. 

Credence’s lips move in a silent prayer as he finds the tip of the dagger at his throat once more. 

Mary Lou starts again. “Accept my humble sacrifice-”   


“Sacrifice,” Graves interrupts, earning him a glare from Mary Lou. “You humans always assume the worst of things.” 

That brings Mary Lou pause, and Credence can guess why. The way Graves had phrased that made it seem as if he wasn’t human. 

“You’re a...” Mary Lou starts to say.   


“God,” Graves finishes for her. “Yes. This one here seems to have figured that out already,” he continues, inclining his head towards Credence.   


Mary Lou recovers quickly from her shock, forcing the point of her dagger a bit further into Credence’s throat. “If you  _ are _ a god, then I don’t see why you should want to interrupt this. I’m offering him to you, after all.” 

Credence winces. Questioning a god’s power doesn’t seem like a good way of currying favor to him. 

But Graves seems amused more than anything. “If I’m a god,” he echoes, laughing. “Perhaps a demonstration  _ is _ in order.” He takes a step back, spreading his hands. 

For a moment, nothing happens. Then the very atmosphere seems to shift. The light around Graves fractures into shadow, darkness enveloping him until all they can see of him is the gleam of his eyes. The grass underneath his feet withers and dies, and the forest around them goes quiet, the birds and insects ceasing their songs. 

Credence and Mary Lou stand frozen on their platform. The air seems thicker, hard to take in, and Credence finds himself struggling to breathe within seconds. 

A shockwave spirals out from the dark center Graves has disappeared into. Mary Lou and the dagger fly off in opposite directions, but Credence’s chains keep him where he is. 

In an instant, everything returns to normal. The birds and insects resume chirping, the sun shines again, and Graves stands at the edge of the platform, looking for all the world as if nothing has happened. 

Mary Lou groans, picking herself up. As soon as she spots Graves, she sinks to her knees again, hands clasped in front of her. “I beg your forgiveness. I would never have spoken to you that way if I knew-” 

“Stop talking,” Graves says, and she snaps her mouth shut. 

Credence tries to step away as Graves comes closer to him, but there isn’t anywhere for him to go. 

Graves stops mere inches away, still studying Credence. “What is your name?” 

It takes Credence a second before he’s able to speak. “Credence,” he whispers. 

“Credence,” Graves repeats, rolling the name over his tongue as if he’s tasting it. “Tell me, Credence. Who is she to you?” he tilts his head in the direction of Mary Lou. 

Credence glances over to where she’s still kneeling in the grass. “She’s my mother,” he says quietly. 

A brief spark of anger flares in Graves’ eyes. “And she was going to give you up to the gods,” he says scathingly. 

“The gods demand blood sacrifice-” Credence begins, but the expression on Graves’ face stills his tongue. He feels like a child again, chastised for missing something obvious. 

Graves holds out one hand and the dagger flies into it from where it lies abandoned on the ground. Running one finger along the blade’s edge, Graves speaks. “Tell me, Credence, is it possible to bleed without dying?” 

“Um. Yes?” Credence ventures. 

Graves doesn’t seem to notice his answer, instead holding his free hand out towards Credence. “Give me your hand,” he says. 

Hesitantly, Credence obeys. He holds it out awkwardly until Graves takes it, flipping it over so that his hand lies palm up in Graves’ own. 

Without warning, Graves brings the dagger down, swiping it clean across Credence’s palm. 

Credence cries out in surprise, automatically trying to pull his hand away.

Graves tightens his grip. He curls his fingers over Credence’s, bringing both their hands over the bowl. A few drops of crimson run through Credence’s fingers, staining the ceramic. “There, see?” Graves says, one corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. “Blood sacrifice.”

Credence watches in fascinated silence as Graves spreads his palm flat again, running his thumb over the long cut. The wound disappears under his touch, the pain fading with it. To his surprise, Graves laces their fingers together, stepping off the platform and pulling Credence with him. 

He’s about to ask what’s going on, but Mary Lou beats him to it. 

“Where are you taking him?” she asks, lurching to her feet. 

Graves blinks at her, seemingly taken aback. “To Olympus,” he says, as if it should have been obvious. 

Credence’s jaw drops. 

Mary Lou splutters in disbelief. “ _ Olympus _ ? Why would you take him there?” 

Graves’ eyebrows inched upwards. “I live on Olympus.” 

“I think she’s wondering why you’re taking me at all,” Credence mumbles, cheeks tinged pink. Even after all this, he’s still having a hard time believing he’s talking to a god. 

“Oh,” Graves says, blinking slowly. He turns to face Credence fully, placing one finger under his chin and tilting his head up a bit. “You’re mine now. She gave you to me.”

Credence’s breath catches in his chest. All he can think to say is, “I was supposed to be dead by now.” 

Graves laughs, eyes crinkling merrily. “I think I prefer you as you are,” he says, wrapping an arm around Credence’s waist, and tugging him close. 

“I think I do too,” Credence says breathlessly. 

“Besides, if you  _ had _ been killed, you would have ended up where all the other sacrifices end up,” Graves says, casting a meaningful look over at Mary Lou. 

Credence follows the line of his gaze. “Where is that?” 

“With Hades,” Graves says simply. “All souls go to him. You humans seem to think dedicating a soul to a specific god will send them elsewhere, but no. All of your sacrifices ‘to the gods’ have been ending up in Hades’ hands for centuries, but you... I intend to keep you,” he says, turning his attention back to Credence. 

Credence flushes, even as Graves’ expression turns somber. 

“There’s just one problem,” Graves says, tapping one finger against his chin. “Mortals can’t live on Olympus.” 

The light fades from Credence’s eyes. “Does that mean I can’t actually go with you?” he asks, dreading the thought of having to go back to Mary Lou. He’d been so close to escaping. 

Graves shakes his head. “Not as you are.” He lifts one hand, cupping Credence’s cheek. “Don’t look so sad, my boy,” he murmurs. “I’m as capable of bestowing immortality as any god.” 

Credence opens his mouth to ask how that happens, but he finds his lips captured by Graves’. He makes a small noise of surprise before melting into the kiss, automatically pressing closer to Graves. As the kiss continues, Credence can feel unprecedented strength flowing into his limbs, rejuvenating him. The raw skin at his wrists knits itself together, and the ache in his muscles disappears. 

When they finally break apart, Credence is glowing just as brightly as Graves. Credence stares at his own hands until the aura disappears, leaving him just as he was before. 

“You’re immortal, not a god,” Graves says in response to Credence’s half-panicked look. “If you’re ready, Credence, Olympus awaits.”

  
Credence takes one last look at Mary Lou. The life he’s leaving behind has barely been a life at all. He doesn’t say a word to her, just looks back at Graves with a blinding smile. “Yes,” he says. “I’m ready.” 


End file.
